Deception, Part 2

Adam Wolfe grips the hose, spraying cool water over Drew Peters' bare skin in the sun-dappled yard. He lingers on the blond boy's pert ass and swaying balls, rivulets tracing every curve. Peters bolts with a teasing laugh, naked feet pounding the grass. Wolfe chases, muscles flexing, until he pins the squirming twink against the weathered picnic table. 'You little slut, think you can run from this?' Wolfe growls, voice thick with command. Peters melts into it, eyes wide and eager, surrendering without a fight. He drops to his knees, lips wrapping around Wolfe's massive cock, sucking with hungry slurps that echo in the open air. Wolfe hauls him up, bends him over the table's edge, and drives in deep—relentless thrusts that smack against Peters' cheeks, pulling grunts and groans from his throat. The boy arches, offering every inch, begging to be used like the vocal bottom he is. Wolfe flips him through positions, pounding missionary on the wood, then side by side, each angle claiming him harder. Peters strokes his own cock furiously until ropes of cum spill across his stomach. Wolfe pulls out, strokes himself to eruption, painting Peters' face in thick, hot streaks. Finally, Wolfe leans in, tongue lapping his own seed from those flushed cheeks, savoring the salty mix with a possessive grin.